Final Fantasy: The Epic
by CanutiusGuglielmus
Summary: Oneshot. The beginning of Final Fantasy I, as told by a bard. Poetry with actual rhyme and rhythm.


Final Fantasy I

As it Might Have Been Told by a Bard in Medieval Europe

HERE BEGINNETH FINAL FANTASY

TELLS the tale, in days gone by,  
A greyness overspread the sky.  
The sun and moon no more were seen.  
Began to wilt all that was green.  
The wind, it seemed, forgat to blow,  
And yet the seas were never low,  
But rough and raging, while the earth  
To ever fewer plants gave birth.  
The wild beasts became more bold,  
And whispers said that spirits old  
And evil were awakening,  
These tidings coming to the king  
He sent for masters old and wise  
And clerks who pored with weary eyes  
O'er many a dusty book and old  
And many an ancient scroll unrolled  
But all the learned clerks could find,  
And all the wise men held in mind,  
Was but an ancient prophecy,  
The only hope the folk could see:  
"When earth begins to rot and die,  
And all things' ruin seemeth nigh,  
Come there shall Light Warriors four,  
And set all things to rights once more."

CORNELIA, a goodly port,  
Was where King Stephen held his court,  
And at its gates appeared one day  
Four travelers from far away  
And in the hand of each was held  
A crystal orb. When folk beheld  
The foursome going through their town,  
Some thought the legend handed down  
Had been fulfilled, and gan to cheer,  
And others gan to hoot and jeer  
And curse them for a wicked fraud.  
The Warriors strode on, unawed,  
And came unto the palace gate  
And sought to have admittance straight  
Before King Stephen's majesty.  
The guard looked at them wond'ringly  
But took the message to the king  
Who heard him, and then bade him bring  
The strangers to the audience hall.  
The guard returned and them did call  
To follow him, and through the door  
They went, and soon they stood before  
His Majesty, and with heads bowed  
And bended knees, one spoke out loud:

"YOUR Majesty, we know your plight.  
We are the Warriors of Light  
And we are come to set aright  
The world that totters to its fall.  
I am, my lord, Sir Peverall,  
A fighter, who in many a land  
Have shown my prowess with a brand,  
And lance and axe, in battle strife  
And tournament, and many a life  
I've taken, though I always spare  
All those who mercy crave, or fare  
So ill they fall into a swoon.  
I never have refused a boon  
That I in honor could fulfill,  
I hate no man, save he do ill.  
Of many a rogue I've been the bane  
And many a monster I have slain,  
And brought to good end many a quest,  
But find I fewest words are best."  
This said, he ceased and spoke no more,

THEN spoke the second of the four.  
"My lord, I am a master thief,  
And hardly would I win belief  
If I recalled the half of what  
I can perform. No door is shut  
To me, nor any lock holds good,  
Or serveth more than rotten wood.  
Barehanded can I catch a cat,  
Or snatch in hand a bird or bat.  
Unheard, on stone or wood I tread  
As if on softly-carpeted  
Queen's bower-floors I made my way,  
And when the night succeeds the day  
So well I can through darkness glide,  
That I should never be espied  
Though all your men should watch to seize me  
I'd roam your palace as it pleased me.  
Though I by many names am known,  
Yet Alan Roux was first my own."  
This said, he ceased and spoke no more,

THEN spoke the third man of the four.  
"Your Majesty, what shall I say?  
No wish have I to hurt or slay,  
But rather all my life I've sought  
To cure the ill. I have been taught,  
And for myself found hidden powers,  
Of stones and herbs and roots and flowers,  
And wondrous virtues of strange signs  
And charms when sung at proper times.  
Few are the wounds I cannot heal,  
But when 'tis needful I can deal  
Stout blows with this my quarterstaff  
When wolf or robber blocks my path."  
He ceased therewith and spoke no more

THEN spoke the last one of the four,  
"Your Majesty, my humble part  
Is as a student of the art  
Occult, wherein such skill have I,  
I can call lightning from the sky,  
Or shoot out fire from my hands,  
Or cause to shake and quake the land  
Or case my foes in blocks of ice,  
And if all this should not suffice,  
I can oppress the 'wildered brain  
By calling up phantasms vain  
Of men-at-arms, or deadly beasts,  
Or else of women fresh and fair,  
Which all, in truth, are nought but air,  
And while my foe with air contends,  
My dagger brings him to his end."

HE ceased therewith and spoke no more,  
The king looked sadly at the four,  
And said, "Good sirs, if ye indeed  
Are they by whom we shall be freed,  
From our distress, then must ye go  
And save my daughter from her woe,  
For she was kidnapped by a knight  
Named Garland, who was once the height  
And flower of our chivalry.  
But not two months have passed since he  
Forswore our court, and eke his vow  
Of chivalry, and lives he now  
Within the Temple of the Fiends  
Whence rumors of his ways I gleaned  
And that he dealt in magic dark,  
But I thought he was simply stark  
Raving mad, and lost his wit,  
And so no harm I thought of it,  
Until two weeks ago at morn  
We woke to find we were forlorn  
Of Princess Sarah. Though we sought  
Through all the castle, could we not  
Find any trace. Then to us came  
A sage from Crescent Lake, whose name  
Was Master Lucan, and he said  
That Garland, knight and wizard dread  
Had stol'n her, and no force or guile  
Could rescue her from durance vile  
Until the Warriors of Light  
Should come and free her from her plight.  
But such my anger and my grief  
His words won from me scant belief.  
I banished him, and then sent forth  
My bravest knights unto the North,  
The Temple of the Fiends to sack,  
And slay Sir Garland, and bring back  
My daughter, but they ne'er returned.  
No news of them I ever learned,  
And I was sunk into despair,  
But now that ye are come, I dare  
To hope again.  
Make no delay!  
Go prove that ye are who ye say,  
And save my daughter!" Hereat broke  
His sorrowed voice. No more he spoke,  
But with his hand he bade them go.  
The Warriors stood up, and low  
They bowed, then turned about and strode  
Out of the castle.  
In the road  
The townsfolk crowded round the gate  
Impatiently, to learn the fate  
The king had meted to the four  
Young strangers; if the orbs they bore  
Were truly signs they had been sent  
To heal the land, or if, intent  
On wealth, they wrought a foul deceit,  
And if the king had dealt them meet  
Chastisement if such was the case.  
And, as they watched with eager face,  
The place doors were oped at last.  
A herald came, and blew a blast  
Upon his trumpet and announced  
That good King Stephen had pronounced  
That these four warriors should show  
If they were those of Light or no,  
By setting Princess Sarah free,  
Accordant with the prophecy  
Of Master Lucan. On their way  
They now would set, without delay.

THEREWITH he ceased, and at the door  
Came walking now the warriors four,  
And when the townsfolk saw them tread  
With merry step and lifted head  
And such a glimmer in their eyes  
As one who all the world defies  
To make him flee when times are set  
When evildoers must be met,  
And such joy on their faces gleam  
As for so long had not been seen,  
It gave the people hope again  
That this ill, too, would have an end.

SO as the foursome traveled down  
The streets of fair Cornelia town,  
The burghers cheered them heartily  
And followed them, till they drew nigh  
The north gate, which in happier days  
From dawn to dusk was always raised,  
But now was always closed, for fear  
Of what ill creatures might lurk near.  
And thither came a groom who led  
Four horses of a good stock bred,  
Such as were fit for knights to ride:  
A gift King Stephen sent, beside  
Full saddlebags of cheese and bread  
And canteens full of wine dark red,  
And all such as is needful counted  
Upon a quest. The warriors mounted,  
And rode out through the opened gate,  
Nor did the guards an instant wait  
When they had left the bridge's wood  
To raise the bridge fast as they could  
And let the great portcullis fall,  
Though still, atop Cornelia's wall  
The people cheered with lusty tone,  
The Four rode northwards all alone.

THE towers of Cornelia town  
Sunk low behind them, as adown  
The road they traveled, though the fields  
Which but a scanty crop did yield  
Of wheat and barley, while the fruit  
Was rotten ere it riped. The root  
Would not strike out. The leaves were pail,  
The branches brittle, trunks were frail,  
And scarce a beast or fowl was seen,  
For, driven by their hunger keen,  
Or fear of something worse, the packs  
Of wolves that ranged the forest black  
Came south, and thought it lavish feast  
To gnaw a farmer's scrawny beast,  
And when no more were found, began  
To lie in wait to seize a man.

AS northward still the heroes rode  
Each time they passed a rude abode  
The peasants looked with wary eye  
Upon the strangers passing by,  
And wondered who could be so bold  
Upon the northward path to hold,  
For either they were arrant fools,  
Or else the wicked Garland's tools,  
Or robbers who desired to draw  
To regions past the reach of law,  
Or else they followed on the trail  
Of Stephen's knight, foredoomed to fail  
Their quest to save the princess gay  
From Garland's clutches. In this way  
The peasants reasoned, as they started  
Upon the men who northward fared  
And ceased their work, lest need should be  
To fight against these men, or flee,  
And till the Warriors of Light  
Had passed completely out of sight  
They fell not to their wonted work,  
And still within their minds did lurk  
Uneasiness once they were gone.

THE Warriors of Light rode on.  
The farms grew rare and rarer still,  
The path grew rough and small, until  
Some leagues beyond the utmost house  
They passed beneath the heavy boughs  
Of the trees that sentinel stood  
Around the outskirts of the wood,  
Where even in the olden days  
When as the sun still shed his rays,  
A passageway they hardly found  
Between the leaves down to the ground,  
And now the sky was overcast  
So little light between them past  
That in the woods 'twas ever night,  
And so the Forest Black it hight.  
The Warriors rode upon their way  
Till, at the middle of the day  
Before them in the dim half-light  
They saw the figure of a knight  
In armor dull and surcoat black  
Upon an old and weary hack  
Of chalky color, and so thin  
Its ribs you could count through the skin.  
Sir Peverall gave a halloo.  
The stranger turned around to view  
Who called, and Peverall made ring  
His challenge, "Garland or the King?"  
The stranger knight made no response,  
But laid his lance in rest at once  
And galloped at Sir Peverall  
Who could not help but take a fall,  
Although he flung his shield before  
His chest, else he had breathed no more.  
Sir Peverall lay still, askance.  
The stranger knight let fall his lance,  
And drew his sword, but ere he could  
Strike any with it, Thomas stood  
Up in his stirrups, raised his stave  
And such a mighty blow he gave  
Upon his helmet, that he fell  
Down from his horse and lay quite still.  
Then Alan did from horse alight.  
And then his dagger, deadly bright,  
Thrust through a chink within his mail.  
Then Alan's face turned deathly pale.  
Quoth Gandalin, "I almost can  
Think thou hast never slain a man  
Before today. Why art thou white?"  
Quoth Alan, "This is not a knight.  
My dagger to the bone went in,  
But I felt neither flesh nor skin."  
He stopped, removed the helmet dull,  
And found within it but a skull.  
The knight who had them so oppressed  
Was naught but bones in armor dressed.  
And as they looked at one another,  
They heard what seemed a cry, half-smothered,  
And turned around to see a pile  
Of bones that lay where just a while  
Before, the knight's pale horse had stood.  
Now fain were they to leave the wood,  
For what chance he was all alone,  
This horrid sentinel of bone?  
Nor dared they leave, for in their mind  
Was fear lest IT should ride behind.  
By Gandalin's advice, they gan  
To break the bones of beast and men,  
And in especial, legs and arms,  
For this, they hoped, would break the charms  
But nought they knew with certainty.  
Though Gandalin thought probably  
It would be best the bones to bury,  
The others wished no more to tarry.  
So watching sharply for attack  
They rode on through the Forest Black  
Until the trees began to thin,  
The light increased form dark to dim,  
And then to something almost bright,  
And through the trees burst on their sight  
The crumbling ruins of a shrine,  
O'ergrown with moss and many a vine,  
That once was tall and broad and vast,  
Though wind and weather down had cast  
The towers, and portions of the wall,  
Yet still the center keep stood tall.  
In front, a gaping archway stood  
Once filled by doors of stout oak wood  
But now an empty space wherethrough  
The Warriors stared at horrors new.

A KNIGHT, full-clad in armor, stood  
Before an altar made of wood  
Which was a sort of pedestal  
To hold a large, black crystal ball  
Which seemed to glow, though far from bright.  
Perhaps it was the torches' light.  
The Warriors were seized with doubt:  
Should they charge in and give a shout  
To challenge him, or softly glide  
Through shadows, killing him unspied?  
But ere they settled on a choice  
"Who goes there?" rang a hollow voice  
"Who are the foolish souls who dare  
To enter into Garland's lair?"  
Then boldly strode the Warriors four  
Into the temple, crossed the floor  
Until they stood before the knight.  
"We are the Warriors of Light."  
Declared Sir Peverall, "We come  
To take the Princess to her home.  
Ah, Garland, wilt thou not forsake  
Thy wicked ways, and once more take  
Thy sword up in defense of right,  
Again for truth and justice fight?"  
But while he spoke, his fingers played  
About his sword hilt. Garland swayed  
With laughter. "No one lays a hand  
Upon my princess. Understand?  
Are you the Warriors of Light?  
Pathetic fools, behold my might.  
You'll never save Cornelia's crown.  
I, GARLAND, WILL KNOCK YOU ALL DOWN!"  
Then Garland took a fighting stance  
As towards each other all advance,  
But ere they came to the assault  
The good Sir Peverall cried, "Halt!  
No chivalry it were to fight  
The four of us against one knight."  
But Garland scoffed and said, "No more  
Than I fear one do I fear four.  
Come all at once, if ye dare feel  
Within your guts my trenchant steel."  
And forward stepped he to attack.  
The three unarmored men stepped back,  
As Thomas held his staff aloft  
And Gandalin gan mutt'ring soft  
And Alan drew his trusty knife  
As Peverall began the strife.  
God wot, it was a joyful thing  
To hear their swords on armor ring  
And see how skillfully they made  
Their swords move through the air, and played  
A fierce tune on each other's mail.  
Sir Garland's blows came down like hail.  
Nor was Sir Peverall more slack,  
But tit for tat he paid him back,  
And sliced a corner off his shield,  
But not an inch did Garland yield.  
He held his ground, and tauntingly  
Invited all the other three  
To join the fight. A wicked grin  
Spread o'er the face of Gandalin.  
He raised his arms, and waved them round  
And started chanting. Soon, around  
His hands a light began to glow,  
First gold, then orange, then red, and lo!  
Where from his hands a ball of fire  
Flew at Garland. With a dire  
Sounding hiss, it struck his side,  
Then burst in myriad sparks, and died.  
And Garland laughed, "Was that supposed  
To do me harm? Well mayst thou boast  
That thou art skilled in magic charms,  
Who canst make fire do no harm!"  
But as at Peverall he lunged,  
He noted not that sparks had plunged  
Into his cape, and smoldered there,  
Until it flapped. They gained fresh air,  
And burst into a full-grown flame  
That soon devoured his cape and came  
Up to his neck. He spun and clutched  
The clasp, but when the flames he touched,  
He jumped and swore a mighty oath,  
And though Sir Peverall was loath  
To strike a foeman so distressed,  
No scruples stirred in Alan's breast,  
Who drew his knife, quick as a wink,  
Ran up, and thrust it through a chink  
In Garland's armor, twists it round,  
Then yanked it out, as to the ground  
Sir Garland tumbled. O'er him bent  
Sir Peverall and said, "Repent.  
Thy time is short, yet mayst amend,  
And bring to evil deeds good end."  
But Garland not a word replied;  
He glared, and tried to spit, and died.  
The Warriors left him on the floor,  
And pounded on the oaken door  
That stood behind the crystal ball  
That Garland gazed at ere his fall  
And pounded on the wood and cried,  
"If there be any man inside,  
Unlock the door and let us through,  
Or it will go the worse with you."  
But from the other side their came  
The gentle voice of highborn dame,  
"Princess Sarah, all alone,  
Within this chamber makes her moan.  
Sir Garland's wretched prisoner I.  
Often have I sought to fly,  
But lock and bolt and bar hold good;  
I cannot open, though I would."  
At which the Warriors rejoice,  
And call to her with merry voice  
That her deliverance is at hand,  
And 'gainst the far wall bid her stand  
For soon they'll batter down the door,  
And as they spoke they did, before  
A quarter of an hour passed,  
And set the princess free at last.  
A plain white dress alone she wore,  
And in her hand a lute she bore,  
But nought besides. No chains around  
Her dainty waist or feet were bound.  
Greet joy, ywis, there was with her  
To learn who her deliverers were,  
But you have heard their tale afore,  
So of it I will say now more.  
Next Princess Sarah 'gan to tell  
Her tale. "Within this prison cell  
Sir Garland kept me night and day  
Since from the keep he stole away  
This lute and me, I know not why.  
He bade me play, but in his eye  
Was such a look as made me sure  
My playing somehow would procure  
Something which he desired well,  
So I refused, and I did well,  
I think, for such a look he bore  
I trembled to my very core,  
And thought he'd slay me there and then  
However, only to this den  
He led me, and imprisoned me  
With lute alone for company.  
He'd often come and bid me play,  
And I'd refuse him ev'ry day.  
But what his reason was for this  
A mystery 'tis to me, ywis."  
"My lady," spoke up Alan then,  
"Where are the rest of Garland's men?"  
The Princess said, in quiet tone,  
"There are none. Garland worked alone.  
His only soldier is a fiend  
He made by magic arts he gleaned  
I know not whence. When first there came  
My father's knights to work his bane  
He slew them all, and made me look  
As all the flesh from one he took,  
And all the bones in order lay  
And chanted o'er them half the day  
While I stood gagged and bound, lest I  
To break the magic spell should try,  
Until the skeleton arose.  
At Garland's bidding, forth it goes,  
To guard in Forest Black the path,  
And all the other corpses hath  
Since then within the salthouse lain.  
He meant to treat them all the same  
When next the stars were in accord."  
The Warriors, at her report,  
Are glad enough to celebrate,  
For no more perils them await.  
They tell her that the days are done  
Of Garland's walking skeleton,  
Then to the stables they address,  
And Garland's coal-black stallion press  
To service, then the happy five  
Set southward, gladdest folk alive,  
And pass the time with merry jest  
And story, song, and quips; and rest  
Beneath the trees, when falls the night  
Around the fire shining bright,  
And taking turns the watch they kept  
(The four did; Princess Sarah slept).  
Disturbed them neither man nor beast.  
And when the light at dawn increased,  
So that they knew the day had come,  
(For through the clouds ne'er shone the sun)  
They rose and mounted all and rode  
Again with light heart down the road,  
Until the left the Forest Black,  
And to the peasants' huts came back,  
Who thought at first, men from the North  
Must Garland's be, and issued forth  
With scythe and pike and club and mace,  
But when they saw the lovely face  
Of Princess Sarah, then they wist  
The truth of things. Her hand they kissed,  
And offered of their scanty store  
Whate'er would please them, but forbore  
The Warriors of Light to take  
The offering so hard to make,  
And so without a feast they went,  
Each peasant to his work now bent,  
But glad in heart they drove the plough,  
"The evil days are ending now."

HOWEVER fast the fivesome's tread,  
The joyous news before them sped,  
And ev'ry man along the way  
Entreated them a while to stay,  
But always gently they denied,  
Till after quite a pleasant ride  
They came to fair Cornelia town.  
The gate was up, the drawbridge down.  
Out came King Stephen and Queen Jane  
To greet their daughter. All in vain  
My words would be if I should try  
To tell their joy, it flew so high.  
Then through the streets they rode along  
Surrounded by the merry throng.  
Rich banners hung from ev'ry wall  
As if for some great festival,  
And in the palace was prepared  
A feast such as no man had dared  
To give for long. And thus in glee  
With merriment and minstrelsy  
They feast until the fall of night,  
When torches countless spread their light,  
As in the hall the dance began.  
Each woman danced, and ev'ry man.  
The Princess whirled around the floor  
With each one of the Warriors Four.  
The pipes and fiddles gaily sung.  
The men and women leapt and sprung,  
Until the bells of midnight toll,  
When Stephen, seeing on the whole  
The dancers had begun to tire,  
Announces all must now retire,  
And clean the hall, then go to bed.  
"A moment!" Princess Sarah said,  
"I have a gift I wish to give  
To them whose doing 'tis I live."  
She did upon the dais stand  
And held the lute between her hands,  
And called the Warriors of Light  
Who knelt before the lady bright.  
She spoke unto them, "Garland knew  
The magic that this lute can do,  
A charm my family has forgot,  
But in your journeys, may you not  
Discover how to wake its charm?  
So take it, keep it safe from harm,  
And when, to guile your weary way  
Some tune upon its strings you play,  
Remember me." He voice broke off  
But she concealed it with a cough,  
Though she could not conceal with such  
Upon her cheeks the crimson blush  
That came there when Sir Peverall  
Received the lute and clasped her small  
And white as lily hands in his,  
And thanked her, planting there a kiss.

WHEN morning came, upon their way  
The Warriors rode, they would not stay  
For all the pleading of the King  
And Queen and Princess. Ev'ry thing  
Was readied for them, many gifts  
Were given them, till scarce could life  
The horses all the weight they bore,  
So brought King Stephen other four,  
And thus arrayed, the beasts they led  
Out from Cornelia's gates, and tread  
The northeast road that stretched away  
Until it reached the cliffs that lay  
On either side the river swift  
That flowed along the canyon 'twixt  
King Stephen's lands and those beyond,  
A wilderness, where few men farmed.  
In olden days a happy place  
Where trappers through the forest chased  
The wild beasts for fur and skin  
And cottages filled ev'ry glen,  
And flocks of sheep on hills and plains  
Were watched by jolly shepherd swains.  
No lord or king o'er them held sway,  
But long ago this passed away,  
And now a hardy few alone  
Could call the wilderness their own.  
The mighty drawbridge which had yoked  
This land to Stephen's once, now choked  
All passage off, for always raised  
It was, and none could go their ways  
Across it, so great was the fear  
Of thieves or monsters lurking near.  
No travelers came as of yore;  
The merchant fairs were held no more,  
And from a city to a town  
And town to village shrank it down.  
But now, by order of the crown,  
The gate went up, the drawbridge down  
Such as had not been done for years,  
And out they rode, the while the cheers  
Of all the village rang out loud,  
But not a one of all the crowd  
Dared follow them beyond the gate,  
Nor did the guards an instant wait  
When once the four stepped off the wood  
To raise the bridge fast as they could  
And let the great portcullis fall,  
Though still, atop the watchtowers tall  
The people cheered with lusty tone,  
The Four rode eastwards all alone.

AND SO THE FOUR BEGAN THEIR QUEST  
None knowing what might wait them next.  
Each bore in hand a crystal sphere  
Which centuries ago shone clear  
With beautiful outpouring rays,  
But now in idle darkness lay.  
Come, lordings, one and all and hear  
Their journeyings, their joy and fear,  
What sights they saw, what foes they slew,  
Until they brought back peace anew.  
So come, my lords, attend to me,  
And hear one FINAL FANTASY!


End file.
